


flotsam

by arkadias



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, billy is dead., but is also a ghoST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkadias/pseuds/arkadias
Summary: when Flint shoved Billy Bones off the side of the Walrus, he'd hoped the kid would die right then and his problems would be solved. the truth is that in doing so, he's bound Billy to him forever.





	flotsam

**Author's Note:**

> this plot stems from me trying to go back and re-watch the episode where billy had died, and i didn't realise i had selected season 2 instead of season 1, so i jumped in on this conversation billy was having with flint, and keep in mind, i was convinced that i was watching season 1 and billy had already ''died'' and i thought to myself, WEIRD i don't remember this scene where flint is talking with billy's ghost. so the whole plot is based on this one thing billy says in that conversation with flint:
> 
> ''can i have a word? [...] when i went into the water that night after andromache, i remember losing my footing on the bowsprit, i remember as i was falling, reaching out and grasping your hand. and the last thing i remember before i went into the water was feeling it slip away. i told myself that you tried to save me but the truth is that it's just as likely that you let go and dropped me into the sea.''

The night Billy died, Flint doesn't remember much of. He does, however remember the look on Hal Gates' face when he'd told him that it was Billy who'd gone overboard. There was this look of horrid realisation that they couldn't turn around— that Billy was _gone_. and for the days going forward, Flint feels nothing but guilt. he tries to recall if he could have held on any tighter, if he'd tried a little harder could he have pulled him up? 

"No." Miranda says suddenly, and Flint finds himself jumping at the sound. 

''No what?'' Flint asks, not looking up from the book he'd been pretending to read. 

''You're doing it again.'' she clarifies. ''Your mind is a thousand miles away.'' and she's not wrong— she rarely is wrong. Flint takes a moment to close his eyes, and hears her skirts rustling as she walks towards him. Her hands ghost over his shoulders before falling under the fabric of his collar to knead at the tense muscles underneath.

Flint is still thinking about Billy.

♛

It's not until a few days later when Flint sees him. Sees him lying on the beach, arms and legs out like a starfish. His first thought is that the kid had washed up dead.

But the entire crew has been camped on the beach, in preparation for the inevitable battle with the Urca and all of the men and women on this beach are casually walking around the body lying in the sand, as if they don't even see him. Flint looks away for just a moment, scanning the crowded shore for Silver, and when he looks back to where Billy had been lying, he was gone. He can distantly see a tall figure walking towards the water, someone so impossibly tall that it can't be anyone other than Billy, but eventually loses him in the glare of the sun and the cluster of tents.

Flint goes to look for Silver and finds him in the middle of a strange argument with a couple of other crewmen, but the moment they all lay eyes in Flint, they scatter like rats.

''What is it?'' Silver asks, taking a deep breath and smoothing down his long hair.

''Have you seen Billy?'' Flint asks bluntly, clearly catching Silver off guard. There's a long pause before the cook decides to say anything.

''Billy is dead.'' he says simply, leaving the rest of that sentence hanging in the thick air. _You killed him, remember?_

''Right.'' Flint says awkwardly. _I did kill him._ ''I meant—'' he quickly corrects himself. ''have you seen Dufresne?'' the new quartermaster. An easy enough mistake, anyone could have made it. Silver cocks his head and chuckles lightly, but doesn't push the subject any further, and politely points his captain in the direction of the quartermaster.

Flint walks in said direction, but is decidedly Not looking for Dufresne.

♛

The next time Flint sees Billy, it's with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. Flint jolts to life and sits up, expecting to feel the ship thrashing in the waves of the storm but the dead calm and stillness that comes with being on land catches him off guard and he feels light headed. he squints into the darkness of the room and towards the window. The shutter is clunking against the frame as wind howls and whistles through the slats.

Flint forces himself to stand, feeling a little unsteady as he walks toward the window in an attempt to shut it up. He works to tie the shutter down with tired hands and when the thunder strikes again, he shivers involuntarily. There are eyes on him.

The captain looks out into the yard, and there He is. There is no mistaking him this time, hair cropped short, too-wide shoulders and his shirt loosely hanging onto his chest. There is next to nothing for light— just a worn out torch hanging by the door, but even from the window Flint can see the saturated blue of Billy's eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, Billy is drenched with rain but Flint can see that his face is red with harsh sunburn. Odd, considering the overcast that's been shadowing the island for the last two days. The kid looks tired, his bottom lip is busted at the corner and his arms are bruised. 

Flint watches Billy, who is completely still and unblinking. He would have thought it was a statue, but finally his tongue slides across his lips, wetting his mouth before he opens it to speak.

Whatever the boatswain says, Flint can't hear it over the rush of wind and water pounding down on Miranda's home. Billy looks at him expectantly— clearly waiting for a response and Flint moves to the front door, moves to go out into the storm. By the time he's gotten to the frame of the door, Billy's back is turned to him.

''Billy!'' Flint shouts over the sound of the rain and leaves swishing in the wind. Billy turns back to look at him, but only for a moment before disappearing into the field. The captain makes to follow his boatswain, taking a quick step forward into the rain, but there's a strong hand around his forearm, pulling him back into the house.

''James.'' Miranda says, slamming the front door and finally breaking Flint's lock on the field Billy had disappeared into. ''You were shouting.''

Flint looks at her, her eyes are filled with worry. ''I'm sorry.'' he says simply. And that's all he has to offer her.

♛

Several days pass, and Flint has been having nightmares. Ghoulish and disfigured creatures rise up out of the sea, clawing and gnashing behind him as he runs down the beach. His feet sink into the sand further and further with every step until his boots are so heavy that he can't run anymore. He falls flat on his stomach, the sand threatening to swallow him as he turns onto his back— morbid curiosity daring him to look straight into the snapping jaws of whatever awaits.

he wakes up in a puddle of sweat in his quarters on the Walrus, sitting up so quickly it makes him dizzy, hands bracing on either side of him on the bed. The hull of the ship creaking softly with each pulse of the ocean, the familiar sound soothing enough for Flint to catch his breath. 

What's left of his crew is shacked up in Nassau, but Flint had opted for sleeping on the ship in hopes of escaping his nightmares. A futile attempt, he realises. He looks out the window of his chambers, taking in the position of the stars and moon. There's several more hours yet to sunrise, but Flint already knows he won't be going back to sleep. 

When the ship is full with the crew, there are other sounds— the scrub of a mop on the deck, crewmen snoring in the bunks or pots and pans clanging in the mess. But now there's no sound but the sea lapping up against the old wood of the hull and the ropes straining against the mast and sails. Flint steps out into the halls of the ship, the stillness giving him chills and sending a shiver down his spine. He pushes through the door and walks out onto the deck. He contemplates taking a skiff to shore to spend the rest of his night getting drunk enough that he won't remember the nightmares, but there's a sound from the upper deck behind him. Footsteps.

Flint pulls his gun from its holster and cautiously walks around the side to the staircase leading to the deck above his quarters. He does his best not to make a sound, but the tired steps creak beneath his boots. He cocks back the hammer of his gun and the click of it seems to echo across the entire ocean. Flint rounds the corner of the top of the stairs, gun pointed directly at the back of the figure leaning up against the stern of the ship. He knows who it is, just by looking at him. Frame too wide and legs too long with arms like tree trunks, but he keeps his gun trained on the back of his head.

''You can put the gun down.'' the man says, turning around slowly, arms now crossed in front of him.

''Where have you been?" Flint says through gritted teeth. It's less like a question and more like a demand. Billy only smiles, shakes his head.

''Dead.''

**Author's Note:**

> this work has no editor/beta and i'm an impatient writer so there are likely some mistakes. point them out if you like, i appreciate critique.


End file.
